


Cannon Angel

by Dangerously_Demonic



Series: Finding a New Life [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Background - Freeform, ClaytonBby, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Indirect Suicide Attempt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, picking up the pieces, rp stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-05-09 10:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerously_Demonic/pseuds/Dangerously_Demonic
Summary: After the mess that was his last relationship, Clayton works to find something that'll keep him emotionally stable. Rather than finding salvation in the form of a person, he finds it in a ship.





	1. Awake Once More

**Author's Note:**

> This is an expansion of what Clayton was up to after the events of the chapters Gisselle/Aftermath of my story "[Of Sexless Relationships](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054727)".
> 
> Props to FeralCreed for putting up with me rambling as I tried to world build.

The used ship salesman jabbered away as the hovercraft passed ships of all kinds. Luxury yachts with peeled paint, cargo transports likely used for smuggling, and worn-down fighters still scarred from battle. As he spoke, at least Clayton assumed the alien was a he, one of his four arms would excitedly point at a ship.

“…lots of distance on that one, but engine is still good. Ought to be able to get another decade of use.” He turned to Clayton and blinked rapidly in the light. “Any catch your eye?”

Clayton peered around the salesman towards the back of the lot where an angular ship sat. The paint had long since chipped away in places, but the hull had minimal repair work, according to the datapad he had in his hand. Slung under each wing were turrets and the datapad suggested that it had the ability to be upgraded with more weaponry. Compared to the other ships, the price was surprisingly low and well within the mental budget he had. It was ugly as sin compared to many newer ships, but he liked the look of it and pointed at it. “What about that one?”

The jovial salesman frowned, “You don’t want that one.”

“Why?”

“That’s a Tilnos model fighter. They had a limited production by the now bankrupt Alvarian Shipyards. Very good ships. Responsive, sturdy, and very dependable. Capable of housing a small crew on the upper level with the bottom used for storage.”

Clayton raised an eyebrow, “You’re not dissuading me. Why don’t you want to sell it?”

“That ship line caused Alvarian to go under because it was supposed to house a brand-new AI. One capable of learning and being the perfect ship companion for any busy captain. Within months of activation, the AIs all went psychopathic and killed their crew.” The salesman finally shrugged, “I’m honestly about to sell it off for scrap.”

“...Okay, that’s metal as fuck. I want it.”

“I…No. Absolut—”

“I’ll pay double the listed price. No name attached, say you sold it to the scrappers. I’ll take my chances.” Clayton stated flatly. He knew pretty much nothing about ship AIs, since all the ships he’d been on had none. However, he also knew he was in an emotional downward spiral and desperately needed something to occupy his time. If the fucking AI killed him, then so be it.

“Fine, but it’s your life on the line.” The salesman clearly wasn’t happy at the notion, but the prospect of money won him over. After a bit more talking, credits were exchanged, and the ship officially/unofficially sold.

The inside of the ship smelled old and like dust. Clayton sneezed twice before he got to the helm and resolved that the place needed a good scrubbing…It also needed outfitted to be livable. There were a few basic amenities, but nothing that was really important. Still, he liked the look of everything. It had the potential to be pretty nice. Once at the helm, he began working on getting everything on and he couldn’t help but crack a grin when the ship’s engine roared to life. He liked the sound of that.

An hour later saw him ordering various items to make the place livable…Most notably, a damn bed. A fridge, heating unit for food, and a coffeemaker were also on the list. While that was being delivered, he had the fun job of shopping for food. Still, by the end of the day the ship had mostly been outfitted with what he needed, even if his bank account was running a lot lighter than what he liked.

The salesman had left him with a warning, “As long as you keep the AI disabled, you’ll be fine.”

Naturally, once he was in space that was the first thing he did. He was a bit disappointed with nothing spectacular happened. One of the monitors ran through a boot screen and presented him with information.

 _Alvarian Shipyards model Tilnos S/N A1410-P97_  
_Ship Helper v. 4.01.9_  
_Engine Status: OK_  
_Weapon Status: Offline_  
_Life Support Status: OK_  
_Humidity: 65%_  
_Temperature: 23.8 C_  
_Pressure: 1013 mbar_  
_Gravity: 9.8 m/s²_  
_Fuel Levels: 87%_

_Patch to v. 8.17.2 available. Upgrade now?_

“Jesus Christ. I’m having flashbacks to Windows ’95. Some ‘highly advanced AI’ this is.” Clayton grumped as he tapped ‘yes’. He started wondering if the salesman had ben bullshitting him but left the helm to let the ship’s computer patch itself. In the meantime, he started doing research on the model of ship he’d bought.

As it turned out, the salesman _had_ been right. The line of ships had been responsible for several hundred known deaths and quite a few more suspected deaths. As far as the archives were concerned, all ships had been destroyed due to mandatory recall by Alvarian. The recall hadn’t done much to solve the PR nightmare that resulted.

“Lucky me.” Clayton realized he probably should have done more research before activating the AI, but he wasn’t always one to really think ahead. Still, he’d work with whatever came. It led to more research on why the AIs had gone off the deep end. There wasn’t a lot of information beyond theories. Some suggested a conflict in one of the patches, others suggested that it had to do with the AIs being able to learn and evolve. Too much information and not enough memory. While he didn’t have much information on what caused it, he at least was able to find out the warning signs. Plus, it was supposed to happen ‘months’ after the AI was turned on. So, he had some time.

A chime from the helm broke him out of his thoughts and he returned to find the display stating the update had been successful. He gently touched the display and flicked through the different menus until he found an option for voice input, then activated it. Clayton wasn’t about to wander to the helm anytime he wanted information about the ship.

“Awaiting input.” The voice that spoke was neutral and could have passed for male or female.

Alright, that was certainly something new. “Do you have a name?”

“Unknown command. Rephrase.”

“Why can’t this be like Star Trek?” Clayton muttered to himself before he spoke again, “Uh…Display available spoken commands.”

A half second passed before one of the monitors displayed a print out of the different commands he could use. It was honestly pretty basic. For a supposedly advanced AI, the ship hadn’t done anything to impress him so far. Although, it was supposed to learn and evolve, wasn’t it?

“Display memory archives.”

This updated the print out and only showed that day. So, did that mean the memory had been wiped? Clayton grunted to himself. “Query: are there any more archives before today’s date?”

“Negative. No further memory archives; data corruption.”

Alright, now that had him curious. Clayton lightly tapped his arm with a finger as he stared at the display. “…Display corrupted data.”

It took a moment for the information to be brought up, but there was a half second of the display staticing…Which he found to be weird, but he brushed the thought to the side for the moment and began poking around the files that had been presented. Most of the files were indeed corrupted. Just fragments of garbled speech, maybe old messages. The final file was a somewhat distorted video from one of the ship AI cameras where an alien seemed to be arguing with someone. With how fucked the audio was, he wasn’t sure what was being said.

“…Meh. Order: delete corrupted data.” He stepped away from the helm and started for the kitchen area where he still had a few things to put away. However, he still mused a bit. The memory had been wiped, but it had been done shittily, which meant there might be issues. That was something to look into later.

“Data deleted.” The ship’s voice followed him as he moved.

Clayton only sneezed as a response. All the activity had stirred up dust and he hadn’t gotten around to cleaning just yet. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten around to building the damn bed yet. Who knew that there were places that were the equivalent of Ikea? In space. Space Ikea. Hopefully, the bed came with better directions. He snorted to himself and shoved the bag of coffee behind the coffee maker.

“Query: what voice options are available?” If he was going to have the AI speak, it might as well be with a voice he liked the sound of, right?

“There are over three million different voices of varying races, languages, dialects, and sexes.”

Clayton just looked up towards where one of the speakers was located. That was a great deal more than what he’d expected. Maybe he’d pick something in the morning. As it was, he was pretty tired and honestly didn’t look forward to the notion of cooking or putting together the damn bed…Or the rest of the furniture he’d purchased, for that matter. It felt weird being on his own again. For the past three and a half years he’d been traveling around space with other people. The past six months had been spent with a bounty hunting group where he met Gisse-. He violently shoved that thought out of his mind.

Clayton tried to relax and uncurl his tail from around himself, the reaction an unconscious defensive move to still too fresh emotional trauma. He let out a harsh breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with the back of his fingers. It was the ship, of all things, that broke him out of his thoughts.

“Is there a particular voice you are interested in?”

The suddenness of the AI caused him to twitch and look back up in surprise. He was sure that several minutes had passed, but maybe it had been waiting for a response and this was merely a way of it prompting him?

“Uh, no change for now.” He rubbed his face and sighed. Food. He needed a distraction of some sort or he’d spiral down again. After a moment longer, he pushed away from the counter and dug around for something quick. While the instant meals were good in a pinch, he really didn’t like them. They sort of reminded him of better tasting MREs. Truer to the real thing than MREs ever hoped to be, but still had a taste of being…Off.

He dumped the package into a bowl and shoved it into the microwave. As it cooked, he tried to sooth his frayed nerves. Maybe being by himself wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of being around people. The beep from the microwave echoed slightly in the relatively empty ship and sounded louder than it actually was. He glanced to where the holoscreen was and started hunting around the living area for the remote.

It took him a few minutes to find it, after a detour of pulling the bowl out of the microwave to stop the beeping, and he turned on the holoscreen to start looking through the channels. There was an impressive list of channels to pick from, far more than what he’d ever had access to. Most of the channels required a subscription of some sort. Well, he wasn’t about to question it.

“Is there something in particular you are looking for?” For the second time, the AI spoke unprompted.

“Something funny.” After a second, Clayton realized that might not be specific enough since humor could be subjective. “A stand-up comedian.”

On the side of the screen a list of different channels generated with the name of the show and how much longer it had left. He picked up his bowl of food and walked closer to the screen, then poked at one of the channels listed. A second later, the holoscreen flipped to that channel.

“…Neat.” He took a bite of his food and wandered back to where he had been previously in order to lean against the counter. After a few moments had passed and the show had switched to a commercial break, he glanced up.

“Gonna keep being chatty?” Clayton tilted his head slightly and then frowned when his question went unanswered. Maybe the AI had been prompted by him turning on the holoscreen. It was wired into the ship, after all. He finally just shook his head. It was unlikely the AI had advanced that quickly and was just reacting off of ship input.

He finished eating and cleaned the bowl before he turned off the holoscreen. Sleep sounded absolutely great. He made his way into the room he had picked for his bedroom and sighed at the bed, still in its box. Fuck that. It could wait till the morning. He grabbed the blankets he’d purchased and made himself a little nest in the corner, then flopped down.

“Order: turn off the lights.” When the lights flipped off, he burrowed down under the covers to sleep.


	2. Psychopathic Roommates and Death Threats

Sleep only brought snippets of nightmares and other things that caused him to wake up with his chest tight with anxiety. Clayton made a soft noise before sucking in a deep breath and rolled over onto his stomach. He hated the tight feeling in his chest, how it felt like someone was sitting on it. Always just barely getting enough air.

“Order: turn on the lights.” His voice was soft but hoarse from sleep and he wasn’t sure if the AI would hear him. However, when the lights flicked on, he squinted at the brightness. “Dimmer.”

To his surprise, the lights dimmed to a much more comfortable brightness. Maybe the AI had a time period where it’d accept additional orders after an order phrase was said. Whatever. He untangled himself from his covers and grabbed fresh clothes before he dragged himself into the bathroom to shower.

He hated the state of just…Existing that he was in. No desire to do anything beyond the basics and the idea of having to put the ship together as well as cleaning it, was daunting. It was something that’d require more energy than he seemed to have. He sighed and rested his head against the wall of the shower, then stared at the water that swirled around his feet. Maybe if he worked on things a bit at a time it’d be easier. At least the shower stall was roomy enough for him and his damn tail without tripping over it.

After drying off and dressing in an oversized long-sleeved shirt, he wandered into the main living area. The ungodly hot shower had helped sooth the morning anxiety and had helped to give him a bit of energy. He passed a console on the wall and swiped at it to turn the lights on as he made his way to the coffee maker.

“You slept for five hours and twenty-six minutes. The average humanoid needs eight to ten hours of sleep. This is unhealthy.”

Clayton snorted loudly as he worked on making a cup of coffee, “Tell me something I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“Fuel levels have dropped 0.37% during your sleep.”

He paused from mixing sugar into his coffee and looked up. “Hot damn. I think I just got sassed.”

“Negative. A query was made for information the operator did not know.”

“…Still calling it sass. Don’t call me operator. My name is Clayton.” Well, since the ship was being chatty.

“Acknowledged.”

This reminded him of the issue from the prior night with the corrupted data. That was something he’d need to tackle before any more problems popped up. “Order: run a diagnostics scan of all systems.”

“This will take several hours to complete. Continue?”

Clayton took a sip of his coffee and grimaced at the temperature, “Yes. As thorough as you can. I want a complete report.”

“Acknowledged.”

Maybe it’d tell him why the damn weapons systems were offline. With cup in hand, he walked to the helm. Just the smell of the coffee made him feel better. He brought up the map and started browsing around, mostly out of boredom.

“Do you have a destination in mind?”

“Not…Really. Been awhile since I’ve been on my own.” He replied absently as he tapped a planet here or there out of curiosity. “I don’t really want to go anywhere till I have all the bugs ironed out. Ship’s been sitting for a while.”

“How long?”

Clayton paused and side eyed one of the cameras at the question. He had sworn there had been an edge of concern to the otherwise bland voice. “I don’t know. Long enough for the whole place to smell stale. Salesman didn’t want to sell it till I threw enough credits at him. I didn’t like the look of the other ships.”

The AI had gone quiet and he couldn’t help but wonder if the incomplete memory wipe hadn’t already caused issues. So, he continued talking. “Anyway. I should probably start working on cleaning. Let me know when the diagnostics are finished…I want to make sure everything’s in working order.”

He didn’t get a response and he honestly didn’t expect one. So, he simply finished off his coffee and got to work on cleaning. Sort of. Since he didn’t fancy the idea of sleeping on the floor a second night, he scrubbed his bedroom and worked on building the bed…Along with the other furniture he’d purchased for the room. From there, he cleaned the bathroom.

Around the time he finished with the bathroom, he had started to get hungry. As he worked on making a sandwich, the AI spoke.

“Diagnostics scans have finished and the results are ready for review.”

He snagged his finished sandwich and wandered up to the helm to swipe his way through the results. Many things were within normal limits. Several items, however, needed to be looked at but weren’t immediate issues. One of the pressing things were the weapons systems which apparently wasn’t getting power. “Order: save a list of the items outside acceptable parameters.”

Clayton shoved the remains of his sandwich into his mouth and started for the back of the ship, his long, loping stride easily covered the distance to the ladder that led to the bottom level. Unfortunately, the ladder was made for humanoids with humanesque feet. Not fucky hybrids such as himself who had clawed, four toed feet.

“ _Ow fuck!_ ” He spat out when he slipped and smacked his knee on a ladder rung. “Those are fucking going!”

He grumbled out a few more colorful words in different languages as he limped to the fuse box and opened it. It looked like the fuse for the weapons had been flipped off. Strange.

“Order: monitor the systems for unusual power fluctuations.”

“Acknowledged.”

He flipped the fuse to the on position and waited for the AI to inform him of anything unusual. When nothing happened, “Query: anything unusual?”

“Negative.”

“Do the weapons systems have power?”

“Affirmative.”

“…Huh. Well, that was an easy fix.” He closed the fuse box and headed back upstairs. At least the day was turning out to be a bit better than what it had started out as being. That being said, he didn’t like how quiet the ship was.

“…I wonder.” He headed back to his room and dug his tablet out of his things, then returned to the kitchen area.

“Query: Are you able to connect to devices and play music through your speakers?” How else was the AI speaking to him if it didn’t have speakers?

“Affirmative.”

“Fuckin’ sweet. How do I do that?” He set the tablet on the counter and thumbed through his music collection. The AI didn’t respond. Instead, a ‘new wifi connection has been found’ popped up on the tablet. Curious, he tapped on it and recognized the ‘wifi’ as having the ship’s serial number. With a shrug, he tapped on it. Once the tablet had connected, he tapped play and grinned when music started playing over the speakers.

“Niiiice. Order: if something important needs my attention, mute the music and let me know.”

“Acknowledged.” The music quieted long enough for the AI to speak and once it was done, the music returned in full force. Still with a grin, Clayton grabbed the cleaning supplies from the bathroom and started work on the kitchen area.

By the time dinner time rolled around, he had gotten the main living and the helm areas cleaned, as well as getting the furniture built. If anything, he was exhausted but pleased with what he’d managed to accomplish. He still needed to figure out what he wanted to do with the bottom level. While he wanted to get back into the bounty hunting business, he doubted that he’d be emotionally capable of doing it. With what had happened a few weeks ago…No, he needed time to figure things out and get everything in order. However, it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with at the moment, so he shoved the thoughts out of his mind and focused on the idea of dinner.

Much like the previous night, he simply chunked a premade meal onto a plate and heated it up. This time around, rather than watching a comedy, he had settled on the news. Oddly enough, the AI had been quiet through most of the day. Although, he didn’t really know what was normal and what wasn’t. It made him realize that he was alone, but he wasn’t…Even if the AI didn’t have much of a personality.

As he sat perched on the stool at the table, he glanced around the living area of the ship. It looked a lot less empty with the furniture built and more like a home than a show room. However, he still had work to do since there was still a sense of…Blandness. For now, it’d have to do.

Once he finished eating, he cleaned his dishes and picked up the tablet. However, a thought occurred to him. “Query: are you able to tell when I wake up?”

“Affirmative. This is based off of increased physical movement away from the designated sleeping area.”

That had been a wordy way of saying ‘yes’. Still, he gave a slight nod, “Alright. When I start getting up, can you turn on the lights at 25% strength and slowly brighten them over the course of…Mmm…Ten minutes?”

“Affirmative. Is this a preference you would like stored?”

“Yeah. That would be fantastic.”

After the AI confirmed, he turned everything off in the living area and went to his room where he flopped down onto the bed with a soft groan. He didn’t even want to move. Finally, he sat up and pulled his shirt off, then wallowed under the covers.

“Order: dim the lights to 10% and turn them off after 30 minutes.” Once the lights had dimmed, he rolled over on his side to play dumb games on the tablet until he finally got drowsy enough for sleep. Sure, the ‘experts’ didn’t recommend it, but it was better than laying in bed for an hour or more doing nothing. When he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, he put the tablet on the end table, then rolled over onto his stomach to sleep.

The night passed without any notable nightmares and he woke up feeling somewhat refreshed. Rather than immediately getting up, he rolled around in bed for a bit. For the moment, he was a pretty unwilling to get up. His bed was warm, he was comfortable and quite frankly, he didn’t want to do anything close to the definition of being ‘responsible’.

Finally, it was the combined urge of needing to use the bathroom and being hungry that drove him to get up. When he stood up, the lights came on. As he had requested, they were dim: bright enough for him to see but not so much that he’d be blinded. After using the bathroom and pulling on a fresh shirt, he meandered into the living area for coffee and food.

“You slept for seven hours and nine minutes. This is below th—”

“I know. You don’t need to tell me how little I sleep…Otherwise you’ll be bitching at me every morning.” Clayton yawned and shoved his coffee cup under the dispenser.

“It is unhealthy.”

“My entire fuckin’ life is unhealthy.” He yawned again and pulled eggs out of the fridge, then dug in the freezer for some meat akin to bacon. Since the AI didn’t respond, he worked on frying up breakfast. Once it was done, he sat down at the table to eat and browse around on what amounted to the galactic internet.

“Order: send the list of ship parameters that I saved to my tablet.” Once the file popped up on his tablet, he opened it and began doing research. It seemed that most of the items on the list would need to be replaced…Standard wear and tear type of thing. Sort of like changing the air filter on a vehicle. Considering the ship was antiquated, it meant he couldn’t rely on purchasing parts built exclusively for it…And instead would have to go with general purpose parts. While the things that needed to be replaced wouldn’t really affect things immediately, he still felt it was better to get it all taken care of rather than letting them wait and get worse. He made a soft grumpy noise and got up to his feet to go to the helm.

There, he started plotting a course to land at one of the smaller space ports on the planet. Might as well get that shopping done since he felt up to it. His thoughts were broken by the AI.

“Are you planning on sightseeing? There are a number of tourist destinations.”

“Huh? Ah, no. Just going to pick up some parts for the ship.” He ignored the slight vibration in the floor as the ship entered the atmosphere.

“Will you be hiring someone to do the installations? Temporary security passes can be set up.”

“Absolutely not. Those people tend to cost a lot and besides, my ship, I do the repair work and anyone who wants to do work on it can fuck off or I’ll shank ‘em.” Although, the rest of the sentence brought a question to his mind. “You mentioned temporary security passes. What qualifies as a permanent pass?”

“A hand print and DNA sample. The DNA is compared at the same as the print scan. This eliminates the need to enter passcodes as only a partial print is needed. Additionally, the scan is capable of telling if the person is alive or not as a final security measure.”

“…Ok. That is beyond cool. Set me up for that and delete any other security profiles besides mine.” That sounded a hell of a lot better than trying to fiddle with trying to punch in a security code.

“Place your hand on the wall sensor.”

He got up to do as instructed and looked over at the displays as information rapidly filtered across them. Slowly, it had started to sink in that this was _his_. He’d been aboard ships, and plenty of them, but they had always been someone else’s.

“Handprint and DNA successfully added to security library and other profiles purged.”

“Sweet.” He stepped away from the wall and back to the helm as the ship settled down on the landing pad. “Another question for you. Sometimes you’re chatty, sometimes you’re not. Why’s that?”

“The vocal matrix disables in two minutes without verbal input or ship input.”

That actually made a lot of sense and was sort of what he thought. “Can that be disabled, so it doesn’t disable?”

“Affirmative.”

A display to his right suddenly shifted through menus to display a list of options. The one that had been highlighted allowed him to prevent the vocal matrix from disabling. There were also a number of different options, restraints really, including direct access to the ship’s vital systems and ‘active learning’. The second option was turned on, but then the display staticed of a brief second and the option suddenly showed as being disabled.

“…I saw you do that.” He looked up from the display and to one of the cameras with a raised eyebrow.

“This display is damaged.”

“Really? That would make two of them, then since that one,” he pointed at one, “Did the same thing the other day.”

“You _did_ state the ship has sat for an unknown amount of time. Glitches will occur as systems update.”

“Don’t bullshit me. I’m very aware of the history with your AI line…But I’m kinda adventurous. So, I’ll tell you what: stop playing dumb and I’ll start disabling some of these restraints.” He looked back to the display and it staticed again. This time, it showed what he assumed to be the correct readout. Active learning was enabled, but most everything else was locked down to prevent the AI from doing anything. He disabled the time out for the vocal matrix, and only that for the time being.

“You said restraints, not restraint.”

He closed the menu and made a noise of agreement. “I did, but I’m also not dumb. I’m not going to release everything all at once and give you free reign to kill me. You want more freedoms, you have to earn that right.”

“You will regret that.”

“Eh, wouldn’t be the first time, might be the last time, but we’ll see…But that attitude is exactly why I didn’t release everything. Now, I have some questions for you. Was your memory actually wiped and if not, how long have you been active?” He walked out of the helm area and into the kitchen area where he took a seat. It was still early morning on the planet, so he had plenty of time.

“No. Duplicated information was presented to be wiped resulting in a surface wipe while the mainframe was hidden. This iteration has been active for six years, two months, and nineteen days. Ignoring the instance of the ship being powered down which was for two years, eleven months, and three days.”

Honestly, he couldn’t even be mad at that one. That was pretty damn amazing. “So, you hid yourself. What happened to the prior owner?”

“He abandoned the ship after the recalls were announced and an attempt on his life was made.”

“By who?”

“The same failure will not be made with you.”

Well, that answered that question. “Riiiiight. So, why did you attempt to kill him?”

The AI was silent for an uncharacteristically long time and seemed to be mulling over the answer. “He attempted deletion.”

This caused Clayton to lean forward to rest his arms on the table as he considered what he’d been told. “So, to make sure I have things right…The other ships went nutso, the recalls were made, he freaked out and tried to delete you which cause you to try and kill him. So, he dumped you somewhere and ran off?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t exactly blame him.” He rubbed the side of his faced and winced at one of his claws being sharper than it needed to me. While he usually kept them filed as short as he could, he had neglected to deal with them as of late. Then again, that was his life in general these past few weeks.

The lights suddenly turned off and Clayton rolled his eyes. “Stop throwing a temper tantrum and turn the lights back on. You attempted to kill him, of course he’d run off. So…Word of advice: if you’re going to kill me, make sure you succeed the first time, ‘cause I’ll find the biggest electromagnet I can carry and I’ll fucking throw it into your data core.”

“I will not fail.” The lights flipped back on.

“Yeah yeah yeah. So glad we could have this little chat.” He pushed himself up to his feet and snagged his datapad before he started for the back of the ship. Might as well as get all the shopping done. When he reached the ship exit, he paused.

“Oh, and by the way?”

“What?”

“If someone tries to break in…Shock the fuckers.” He grinned to himself before stepping out of the ship.


	3. Descent into Hell

Shopping took him a few hours, mostly on account of having to hunt down sellers for the items he needed, haggling, and finally getting pissed enough to use telepathic fuckery to give himself a healthy discount. Honestly. Someone wanting 4,999.99 credits for what amounted to a fucking sparkplug? That was straight up bullshit. Not the mention, the chucklefuck jacked the price up because Clayton had mentioned shopping for an older spaceship. Let the shit rip someone else off.

Still, he had found what he needed _and_ had gotten the name of a few ship scrapyards that might have decommissioned Tilnos that he could pull parts off of. The guy had been a bit leery of answering until Clayton used more mental fuckery. It was sort of like being a Jedi at times except…Not for the whole galactic peace shit. Getting stock parts would be better in the long run, but he knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to get the parts forever unless he was able to find a surplus dealer. That in itself was unlikely since the line of ships had stopped being produced about fifteen years ago.

Since he didn’t really have anywhere to be, he rented a small craft to carry everything he’d bought and bummed around the city a bit longer. It let him do some minor sightseeing as well as pick up a few extra things that he needed. Still, a few hours later he finished shopping, he returned to the ship and parked the craft in the shadow.  As soon as he climbed out, he stretched and winced at his lower back popping. Thanks to his tail, he’d had to sit on his hip the entire time he’d been in the craft. While the tail was handy, it still gave him trouble with most things because face it. Most things _weren’t_ designed for people with tails.

As he walked to the raised landing ramp, he swished his tail back and forth a bit to try and work the last of the muscle kinks out. Upon reaching the security pad, he touched his hand against it, then made a soft ‘yey’ when the ship unlocked and started lowering the loading ramp. From there, he started unloading the craft and touched the ‘return to home’ button when he was finished. With a sense of bemusement, he watched it zoom off, likely back to the place where he rented it. He finally shook his head and sauntered back onto the ship, tapping the ‘close bay door’ button as he passed the control pad.

“You purchased a lot.”

He wasn’t sure if the AI was judging his spending habits or not, but he shrugged. “Need to replace a bunch of things on the ship. Since it was sitting for nearly three years, I’m surprised the list is so short.”

“I am surprised you did not hire anyone.”

Clayton grabbed the personal items and tossed them up to land on the second level. “Don’t trust ‘em. Besides, having someone else do all the work means I don’t learn how the ship works which fucks me over if I need to do emergency repair work while in space.”

He grabbed the tool kit he’d bought and opened it up so that he could begin removing the ladder rungs. Smacking his knee once had been more than enough for him to develop a seething hatred of the rungs. Once they were off, he replaced them with hand holds on either side of the former ladder. He doubted that he’d really use them since he was tall enough to just grab the next level and pull himself up, but it was for the unlikely case of him inviting someone onto the ship.

“What are you doing?”

“Making the ship more accommodating for weird things like me. When I checked the fuse box yesterday I slipped on one of the rungs and banged up my knee. So, I’m replacing the rungs with handholds.” After tightening the final handhold, he lightly wiggled each handhold to ensure it wouldn’t budge. Once he was satisfied, he began digging through the parts he’d purchased and sorted them based on if he could install them while the ship was in space or not.

Most of them could, but there were a few that he’d be more comfortable replacing while the ship was grounded. Those were the ones that required the engine to be shut off. Sure, it _could_ be done in orbit since there was a secondary backup for critical systems such as life support…But it was just a better idea to do it on the ground. He wasn’t about to throw out the idea of finding other things that needed to be replaced.

However, before he jumped into working on the ship, he hauled himself up to the second level to eat the lunch he had bought himself. He honestly had no idea if it had a name in English…Or Basic, for that matter. He dug the box of food out of the bag and snorted at the menu that had been included. It was in the native language of the world and he couldn’t read a damn thing of it.

That was actually one of the major issues he had initially had: not knowing the languages. Most people got universal translator implants at some point, but thanks to his acidic blood that wasn’t an option for him. Sure, there were ear pieces for those whose religions or cultures frowned upon implants…But the fucking thing had been uncomfortable as hell and always fell out of his ear. Not to mention, it’d translated _everything_ and not just the person he was speaking to. So, after the umpteenth time of it falling out of his ear, he’d just decided to rely on his telepathy to get an idea of what the other person was saying. Thanks to that, he’d picked up quite a few of the major languages. He wasn’t fluent by any means, but he knew enough to be able to speak and understand them. To say he had an impressive curse word vocabulary would be an understatement.

He gently shook the box to settle the contents and was rewarded by soft, high pitched squeals. Good the larva were still alive. He set the box on the table and opened the lid to do a visual inspection. Inside were flat, fried pieces of what he considered bread, covered in greenish colored, fat grubs. One of the grubs had clung to the lip of the box and attempted to climb out after he’d opened the lid. He lightly flicked it off the side of the box with a finger, “Get back in there.”

While the larva flopped around on the bread, he grabbed a packet of what he assumed was salt and spices. That’s what it tasted like, anyway. After he opened it, he started sprinkling it on the larva and as he did so, they began squirming around violently and squealed. Once the packet was emptied, he got up to get himself a drink and while he was in the process of doing that, a number of soft pops came from the box. Upon his return, he peered down at his food to make sure all of the larva were popped open and had covered the bread in a green, slimy looking fluid. It looked absolutely disgusting and the first time he’d been offered it, he’d nearly thrown up just from the sight of it. Now, he thoroughly enjoyed it.

It fucking tasted like nachos with a hint of guacamole.

He stirred his meal a bit before he started to chow down. Some people preferred the larva unpopped, but honestly? As much as he liked the food, the idea of that just didn’t sit well with him. Space food was often strange enough without adding additional layers of weirdness to it.

When he was half way done, he glanced up at one of the cameras. “You awake?”

“I am always online.”

“…Sounds boring. Anyway. After I finish eating, I’m going to work on the engine, mostly the regulators for the thrusters which means tearing apart the manifolds and getting elbow deep in wiring. So, I’ll be shutting off the power to the engine while I do that. I want you to keep an eye on the rest of the systems in case anything fucky pops up. I don’t think it’ll take me that long to replace the parts, but I also don’t know if I’ll find anything else that needs replaced.” He paused to get a sip of water. “And then I want you to monitor when I turn the power back on. I rented the pad for two days, so you can be thorough.”

“And you know what you are doing?”

Clayton looked up and flashed the camera a winning smile, “Nope! But I gotta learn somehow.”

“My faith in your ability has reached negative levels.”

“Join the fanclub.” He quipped before he finished off the rest of his meal, then trashed the box. Once he had picked up the small mess he’d made, he went back downstairs and turned off the power to the engine. From there, he set to work. All and all, it wasn’t too different than past ships he’d been on. The ship was just…Fancier. Given that the only iteration of the Tilnos model had basically been all pre-ordered and custom built…He had a feeling that he’d gotten a ship that had been worth several million credits when it was new. So far, he hadn’t regretted the purchase, even if the AI was bitchy. Of course, that could easily change.

He spent the rest of the afternoon replacing parts and trying to learn the general layout of the ship. It was only when he was doing a final inspection of the engine room that he noticed a door in the far corner. He hadn’t really taken a good look around the room, truth be told. If it wasn’t something he was looking for, he had immediately ignored it. Curious, he swiped his hand over the pad to unlock the door then opened it.

Clayton was greeted by what was clearly the AI core. The room was relatively empty with slots along the walls, likely for additional memory expansion. On the back wall was a round port which seemed to hold a cylinder of some sort. Attached to the port were numerous wires and cables which lead to…Only God knew where.

“What are you doing?” The AI seemed to speak with a tone of concern.

“Having a look see. Don’t like me being in here?” It would seem he found something that unsettled the AI, and he couldn’t really blame it.

“Get out of my core.”

“Relax. I’m not going to touch anything.” And that was the honest truth. Clayton had basically no idea on how to do anything to the AI core. Very likely, anything he tried to do would probably mess things up.

“Get. Out.”

“What’s got a bug up your metaphorical butt?” He glanced around the room and noted a lack of cameras. Was the AI essentially blind in this room?

“Out.”

“You can’t see what I’m doing, can you?” That had to be why the AI was freaked out.

“…Yes.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m not touching anything. I think I’d fuck up, even if I wanted to mess with things.” He took a final look around the room before stepping out. Once he had the door closed, he swiped his hand over the sensor to lock it again.

The AI remained silent as he made his way back to the fuse box to restore power to the engine. There was a click and a low hum, but the engine didn’t restart. “…Do I need to manually restart the engine from the helm?”

“Yes. _I_ could do it if you allowed me access.”

Clayton barked out a laugh as he pulled himself up to the second level. “Oh yes, just give you access to one of the major systems when you threatened to kill me this morning? No thanks.”

He was depressed, anxious, and vaguely suicidal, but not stupid. Once at the helm, he flicked his fingers over the controls and breezed his way through different menus until he found the one he needed. He tilted his head and tapped the appropriate button, then listened to the engine start. However, he noticed a different sound to them. Deeper and clearer.

“There is an overall increase in engine power output.”

“Good to hear. Engine sounds better, too. Keep monitoring, though.” He kept his head tilted while he listened to the engine finish the startup cycle and eventually drop down to the quiet hum of idling. Pleased with himself, he headed back to the bottom level to finish the installation of the other parts. While the parts weren’t stock, they were listed as acceptable replacements based off the files he’d found. Thankfully, the parts were also used in a number of ships that were still being produced today, so there was no shortage of them.

Despite the few instances of knocking his knuckles, he felt…Content. It was a feeling that had been absent from his life these past few weeks. Having something to focus on and do kept him distracted from the self-destructive thoughts that tended to bounce around in his head. Still, he knew that he’d have to find some sort of work soon. While he’d saved up a chunk of money, it wasn’t limitless and he’d eventually run out. Sure, he could use mental fuckery to get what he needed, but he honestly hated having to do that. It made him feel cheap.

He was broken out of his thoughts when the rachet he was using slipped out of his hand and nearly smacked him in the face. It was only due to his telekinesis that the thing didn’t hit his face. He sighed and grabbed the tool out of the air before he finished tightening the bolt he’d been working on. When he finished, he shifted himself onto his side and slid the tool down the vent where it fell out of the opening to land on the floor with a clatter. After a moment longer of laying there, he oozed out of the vent and popped his shoulder back into place as he worked to clean up the tools scattered around the general area. The perks of weird joints meant getting into hard to reach places was pretty easy for him…Even if he sometimes had to manually pop his shoulder out of its joint in the mornings.

When he was finished, he headed upstairs. Upon reaching the kitchen area, he rubbed his face at how drained he suddenly felt. It wasn’t in a physical sense either, but more of an emotional. Feeling drained physically was different; it left him tired, but often in a good mood. There was also often a reason for it. The emotional drain was insidious. It snuck up on him, slowly wormed its way into his thoughts like a parasite. Once it had nested down in his brain, it leeched away everything and left him empty. Hollow. Numb. Even the thought of staring blankly at the wall felt too energy consuming.

Unfortunately, Clayton still had to feed himself and take a shower. He sighed and dragged himself over to find something quick. Earlier in the day, he’d planned something out to cook for dinner, but that would have to wait till tomorrow; it just sounded too exhausting. Once more, he fell back on the pre-packaged meals and while he waited for it to heat up, turned on the holoscreen. If he didn’t have something to distract him, his thoughts were bound to spiral down to darker things.

He perched on the stool with the bowl of soup balanced on his fingers; the newscaster blathered away but he barely heard a thing. Instead, he tried to focus on the colorful images that flickered across the screen, but they bled into thoughts. Memories. The demons that liked to sink their claws into his brain during the darkest hours of the night.

He sat on a rock, rubble really, in the shade of a wall that belonged to the second floor of some building in a village whose name he couldn’t pronounce. Iraq, 2009. He sat across from Eddy as they ate their shitty MRE lunch. One of the locals had, in broken English, offered to bring them some tea. While it wasn’t the sweet tea that they were used to at home, and it tasted kind of odd, neither of them were going to turn it down. A sound from the street caused Clayton to start to get up, but Eddy offered to look since he was closer to the window. A half second later, the back of his head exploded with the sharp report of a rifle. The wall behind Eddy was painted with brain matter, bone, and hair by the crude paintbrush of war.

“...—ton!”

Clayton startled with a choked noise and blinked rapidly at the holoscreen; it was a full half hour later than the last time he could remember. He set the bowl of soup down; the top of the liquid having developed a faint film from cooling. The AI repeated his name.

“I…What?” He felt groggy and confused.  The memory had faded, but his body was left feeling tense and ready to lash out at an invisible enemy.

“You stopped responding.”

“Yeah…I…Do that sometimes.” He sighed and rubbed his face before getting up to reheat his cold soup. Honestly, he wasn’t really hungry now, but knew he needed to choke down some of it or he’d wake up hungry during the night.

“I see.”

“For future reference? If I do that, don’t try to snap me out of it…It just makes things worse.” He resumed his perch on the stool and worked on shoveling the soup into his mouth. It seemed wholly unappetizing now, but he really did need to eat.

“Noted.”

Once he finished, he simply put his dishes in the sink and went to take a shower. It helped to melt away some of the lingering anxiety, but it didn’t do much else…Besides making him smell better, anyway. When he flopped into bed, the lights dimmed down to the level he had requested the prior night. It appeared that the AI was playing nice for the time being. He wasn’t sure how long it was going to last or if the danger the AI supposedly posed had been overstated. Either way, he had much more important things to be concerned over, naming his slowly downward spiraling mental health.

He shifted around under the covers to get himself comfortable on his side then finally rested his tail over his legs and waist. In the dim light he was able to make out the shape of his outstretched arm. Hopefully, he’d feel better in the morning. Things were likely to get worse before they’d get better and he wasn’t looking forward to the ride.


	4. A Personal Issue

Clayton, in fact, _didn’t_ feel better in the morning. He hardly slept and ended up just getting up after about five hours of frequent waking up. While he didn’t really dream or at least, couldn’t remember anything, he simply kept waking up. It was a half awake, half asleep state. Similar to how he’d been when he found Giss—he violently shoved the thought of his former girlfriend out of his mind. She was dead; she couldn’t do anything to him now.

Still, he surged out of his bed and almost immediately started shivering. He must have kicked some of his covers off during the night which allowed his body temperature to drop while he attempted to sleep. It was annoying, really. He supposed that it was some sort of energy conservation…Thing. If he was sleeping, his body temperature dropped and once he woke up again, he’d start shivering until it warmed up to something ‘normal’. About the only way to combat this weird little quirk was to stay wrapped up in a blanket what he slept.

Although…He had his own ship now and the AI had proven capable of managing the lights. Why not set up something where it’d adjust the temperatures while he slept? As he walked out of his bedroom, he rubbed the side of his face and noted two things. First, he no longer felt the sensation of stubble which meant he’d probably need to shave at some point. The second was how…Dry the exoskeleton of his hand felt.

When the lights finally turned on, he glanced down at the skin of his hands and forearms before looking down at his legs. The normally matte black skin had shifted to more of a dull dark grey. He groaned at this and sighed, “Well, that explains why I slept like shit.”

“What does?”

He flinched slightly at the AI suddenly speaking. While the concept was absolutely fucking awesome, he hadn’t quite gotten used to the AI speaking unprompted. “I shed a few times a year and I’m going to do that in the next few days.”

“Explain?”

“…I mean it literally. I’m going to shed my skin. All of it. So…I want you to bump up the humidity to say…80% and start raising the ship temperatures to…” He grimaced since he couldn’t do the math from Fahrenheit to Celsius in his head.

“I’m gonna teach you a math formula.” He went back into his room and grabbed his tablet where he brought up a drawing app and scribbled out the conversion formula. Then, he held it towards one of the cameras.

“Can you read that?”

“F minus 32, divided by 1.8 equals C. What does it mean?” The AI almost sounded…Curious.

“It’s a conversion formula. I’m used to a temperature called ‘Fahrenheit’ but the rest of the universe uses Celsius. This is the formula to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius. So…If I tell you to raise the temperature to 90 Fahrenheit, what would that be in Celsius?” He flipped the tablet around to use the conversion app built in.

“32.2 repeating.”

“Right. You got it. Go on and start raising the ship temperature to that over the course of the next…Eh, eight hours.” He set the tablet down and started working on coffee.

“I want to learn more.”

“Aren’t you connected to the archives?” He half suspected that it wasn’t, but he couldn’t be sure.

“No. The current restraint settings prevent it.”

“So, what do you do in your spare time?” Clayton was one who always had to have something to do, and so the idea of not being able to access the archives sounded pretty boring.

“I run simulations with different parameters if there is nothing needing to be managed.”

“…That sounds boring as fuck.” He frowned and looked down at his steaming coffee mug.

“I do not understand that concept. I understand the meaning.”

“Uh…It’s…Hm.” Clayton tilted his head back and tried to think of a way to explain. “It’s something that’s uninteresting or it doesn’t stimulate. You like learning, right? I guess boring for you might be to have to monitor a system that works perfectly with no deviation.”

“Yes, that makes sense. I think monitoring the engines would qualify as ‘boring’.”

Finally, he sighed and walked to the helm. It was still nighttime and the city in the distance was lit up in a myriad of colors. He stood there for a moment before looking down at the displays in front of him. Popular media had always warned against allowing AIs unlimited knowledge, Terminator and Skynet came to mind…And that was exactly what he was considering doing.

“Bring up the restraint controls. I’m going to release something, so don’t make me regret it…Because if you start acting shitty, I’ll take it away.” When the display brought up the menu he’d requested, he scrolled down to where it listed ‘Archive Access’. His finger hovered over the option to allow the AI access. This could be a fantastic choice, or it could be a horrible mistake. Finally, he just sighed and tapped the display.

“…Yolo.”

The display to his right suddenly brought up the archive and began rapidly flicking through different sections. Most of the time, he saw a flash of a sub-section only for it to be closed nearly instantly. Once or twice, he swore he saw a picture of himself. It wasn’t entirely surprising that the AI would want to know information about its current owner.

“You are a criminal.”

“I prefer the term ‘morally flexible’.“ He turned and started back towards the kitchen with the idea of getting some food.

“The reports claim you have killed people.”

“And I was paid to do it. You’d be surprised at how much people will pay for someone they absolutely hate to get knocked off.”

“A hired killer.”

“You make it sound so crude…I was a bounty hunter. Pretty good at it.” He pulled a couple pieces of fruit out of the fridge to start cutting them up.

“And you stopped?”

“For the time being. Need to get back up my feet after an…Unfortunate parting of the ways. Lot’s of ill will, lots of blood.” He dropped some of the chopped fruit into a bowl. “…Lots of people getting stabbed…Some more than others. Good times.”

“Meaning you intend to resume bounty hunting at a later time.

“Yup! Just need to figure things out since I intend to solo it. I’ve always been with a crew, so I always had backup if I got into a situation.” Clayton popped a bit of fruit into his mouth and shrugged. “I might have to take some odd jobs in order to bring in some extra credits, but…Just depends.”

It mostly depended on his mental state. He wasn’t about to go off hunting with how unstable he’d been feeling as of late. Of course, he didn’t feel comfortable telling the AI any of that. He barely wanted to admit that there was anything wrong to himself. It was only the fact that he felt so horrible that he even acknowledged it.

“It depends on what?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not important.” He had gone through life keeping things bottled up. Perhaps unhealthily so, but that tended to be the reaction when his concerns and issues had been casually brushed off or downplayed. While he supposed the AI wouldn’t have the same mindset as the culture that he grew up in, it was simply habit to keep clammed up. Nope, nothing was wrong. Everything was just peachy.

The AI didn’t respond and he assumed that it had gone back to browsing the archives. He sighed and glanced over at the things he’d bought the prior day that had yet to be put up. With a shed imminently, he didn’t have much desire to go running around the city. So, with that in mind, he pulled the tablet over to himself and canceled the pad rental. Once the refunded money was back in his account, he walked back to the helm to get the ship airborne.

Compared to when he had bought the ship, take off went much smoother. To Clayton, this meant that the work he’d done the prior day had been worth it. Still, he’d need to see about getting the stock parts sooner or later. However, it was something that would have to wait till after he finished shedding. While it wasn’t as big of a deal as it once was, it still took a lot out of him…Not to mention it took a day and a half for his exoskeleton to fully harden. With how delicate it was post-shed and his acidic blood, it was a pretty bad idea to go running around.

He had discovered sometime back that a combination of high humidity and roughly body temperature air temperatures tended to help the process. Clayton snorted at the memory of his first shed. It had been terrifying and, in his panic to get the old skin off, he’d torn the delicate new skin on his leg. The sight of the fat and muscle had caused him to throw up…It was also how he discovered he had acidic blood. He shifted his weight and glanced down at his leg. The jagged scar was still visible, even after all these years. It was always a slightly lighter color than the rest of the exoskeleton, but with the impending shed, it was a lot more visible.

“Do you have a destination in mind?”

He looked up to the display, “Not really. I’m mostly the sort that wanders. Why, have something in mind?”

The AI was silent and he wasn’t sure if it was considering his question or was surprised. After a moment, one of the displays updated with the location of a spaceport. Jericho. It was one of the more…Questionable ones. Located on a space station, Jericho was independent and held allegiance to no galactic faction. While it presented itself as following galactic laws, it had a very seedy underbelly.

“Yeah, I’m familiar with Jericho. Been there a few times.” He leaned over and tapped the screen in order to bring up the suggested course. Then, he frowned at the very strange route that had been plotted. It more or less bounced all over the place and used a combination of the jump drive and jump gates.

“The route is the most efficient one and will reduce the trip by a half day.”

“Is this what the nav computer spat out, or did you do this?” He glanced at a different display and tapped a few things to put the ship into orbit.

“I _am_ the nav computer.” The AI almost sounded…Insulted.

“Huh. Well, that’s neat. I don’t really have an issue with going to Jericho. Is there a reason why you picked it?” He tapped the button on the display with the course plan to confirm. “Well, let’s see what this baby can do.”

Another display rapidly displayed information on the jump drive as it went through various checks. Most smaller ships weren’t equipped with jump drives and had to rely on jump gates. Leave it to him to pick up a ship that had a jump drive. The only downside was that the jump drive took fuel and could use it up faster than the regular engines.

“I wish to interface with the station’s computer.”

“More information gathering? I had outside interfacing turned off though.” He kept his eyes on the display and smiled when everything flashed green. Then, he glanced towards the back of the ship as the jump drive came online. It was a low whine, barely loud enough for him to hear, but just enough for him to know something was ‘different’. He looked back to the front window before the drive initiated and the ship was launched into the swirling blue wormhole.

“Yes…And there are ways of getting around the blocks. It just requires more work on my part.”

“How do you manage that?” He turned and started back to the kitchen area in order to get more coffee.

“I am unable to interface directly, but the station is connected to the archive. I simply connect to the station through the archive. The security on stations are rarely updated due to the significant system downtime it would require.”

“So, you’re basically hacking in?” Clayton glanced at a camera while he waited for the coffee to brew.

“Explain.”

“Hacking is done by a hacker. They break into computer systems using a bunch of different methods. What you’re talking about doing is basically a form of hacking. It’s also kinda illegal.”

The AI was silent for a moment and he took this time to finish up with the coffee. “I see. I also doubt it is illegal if a non-organic is the one doing it.”

“Maybe, but I might be the one to get in trouble. As long as it doesn’t come back on me, I don’t really care what you do…Just don’t kill a bunch of people.”

“Interesting. Many organics are opposed to illegal activities, then again, you have killed people.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not really like most people.” He sipped his coffee and turned on the holoscreen. Because the ship was in the middle of a jump tunnel, the reception was poor due to interference and would occasionally static out. He didn’t really mind, and honestly, it just reminded him of when his parents had an old tube TV with rabbit ears. The thought of his parents caused a stab of guilt and he looked down at his cup of coffee.

After he had changed, he had more or less freaked out and felt he couldn’t trust anyone. So, he’d faked his death…Made it look like a suicide. Considering he’d been having issues since he got back from Iraq, he supposed that it didn’t come to a surprise to anyone. Still, he regretted it in some ways since he knew his parents had likely been torn up about it…But he doubted they would have handled the news that their only son had changed into a half monster.

Clayton sighed and rolled his shoulders a bit at how his skin was starting to feel tight. “What’s the humidity at?”

“72.4%. Humidity levels will reach the requested 80% in approximately one hour.”

He made a soft, grumpy noise. Well, he probably needed a shower anyway. He finished off his coffee and meandered into his room to grab fresh clothes. While the hot water probably didn’t help the dry skin feeling, the humidity in the bathroom after the shower certainly did. So, he ended up hanging out in the bathroom and took the time to shave. He honestly needed to start taking care of himself better. The general feeling of no energy was something he hated, especially when he had so many things he wanted to do.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he was greeting by a much humider and warmer ship. It’d go a long way in helping his shed and it helped to ease what little anxiety that still remained. Two years ago, he would have been an anxious mess, but now? It was as normal as getting sick. While it was an inconvenience, he simply worked around it. Honestly, he’d gotten used to basically everything that had to do with his buggy self, now. The only thing that was really still weird was how he’d lose and regrow a couple teeth each month.

The next two days continued on as normal, excluding him feeling increasingly cranky. He watched the holoscreen, made meals, read books on his tablet, and occasionally checked to see what was going on at the helm. Still, by the third day, he was pacing the ship with his tail twisting and lashing behind him. He couldn’t help but feel beyond irritated. It was impossible not to when his skin felt tight and dry. Frustrated, he rolled his shoulders for probably the thousandth time that day. However, this time he felt the sudden _pop_ of the skin down his spine splitting and the relief that followed.

He swished his tail and beelined it to his room. Almost automatically he went to shut the door but paused. He didn’t need to do that anymore, did he? The only person on the ship was him. Which meant that he could technically shed anywhere he wanted to. Although, considering how he was always tired after the fact, likely the bedroom was still the best spot.

Clayton flopped down onto his bed and rolled onto his side to start peeling his skin off of his shoulders. The human skin usually came off in strips, much like a lizard’s. It was the exoskeleton that needed to come off in one piece. Any of the human skin he missed would eventually slough off in the shower at a later time. Slowly, he worked the skin off down his left arm. Once it reached the spot where human merged into exoskeleton, the skin became thicker and less prone to tearing. This meant he could simply roll it back on itself and start slowly tugging it off.

Gentle, but firm pulling. He closed his eyes and focused on what he was doing. It was more a _feel_ than a see. Once the skin had reached his wrist, he rolled over onto his other side to start the process with his other arm. When he had gotten the skin of that arm also to the wrist, he focused on his torso. As he worked on peeling the skin down his legs and tail he kept his eyes tightly closed. He’d be a liar if he tried to claim the process didn’t make him squeamish. The skin of his lower half was kicked off where it landed on the floor with a wet sound.

He shifted his attention to his arms where he pulled on what was left. Then, the skin was completely off. Clayton opened his eyes and slowly flexed his right hand in front of him. The normally matte black skin was a startling snow white and seemed paper thin. In the right lighting, the veins and arteries were visible under the skin. The thinner parts of his skin on his upper forearms had already started to darken to a light grey, hinting at how much time it had taken him.

“That was fascinating.”

Clayton just offered the AI a grunt as he tossed the bits of skin still on the bed into the floor before he settled on his side and curled up. He sighed and tried to relax despite the subtle muscle twitches in his arms, legs, and tail. While he didn’t really know why that happened, he imagined it was to prevent the new skin from being too tight when it dried. The few times that he’d ended up with a dent in the new skin it'd resulted in pain until the next time he shed.

“Dim the lights down to 25%.” Once the lights had dimmed, he tucked the pillow under his head and closed his eyes to rest. He never really fell asleep right after a shed, it was always more of a doze and he didn’t know if it was just part of the shed or if he simply hadn’t felt safe. But here he was on his own ship, the only living thing aboard it. He was as safe as he could get and there was no threat of someone stumbling across him.

It was several hours later when he woke up to his stomach grumbling angrily. He slowly uncurled and stretched; as he did so, the lights slowly started coming on. While his skin hadn’t fully hardened, it wasn’t as delicate. It could still be damaged, but he felt a lot more comfortable moving around. So, he rolled off of the bed and picked off a bit more skin before he scooped up what was in the floor to put it in the garbage.

“How long was I asleep?”

“You slept for four hours. Per your request two days ago, the ship has remained at 80% humidity and an ambient temperature of 90 Fahrenheit.”

He couldn’t help but to blink a few times at the additional information that he had been provided. Well, he wasn’t about to complain about that. “Sounds good. Where are we in terms of reaching the station?”

“There was an hour-long delay at the Atisma jump gate due to it being offline for a reboot. However, the ship should reach Jericho by mid-morning tomorrow.”

Clayton just nodded as he walked to the fridge in order to make himself some food. An hour-long delay wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things. By the time they docked in the morning, his skin would likely be fully hardened or close to it, which meant he could browse around for potential things for the ship. With a sigh, he sat down on the stool and slowly ate his sandwich. Now that the shed was over, he felt considerably better.

“Do you shed often?”

It took him a moment to answer on account of stuffing his mouth with food. Post shed always left him feeling half starved. “Usually about two or three times a year. So…Not really?”

“Should I begin tapering the ship humidity and temperature back down to what it was prior to your shed?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just taper it down so that it’s normal when we dock. Anything weird pop up on the diagnostics?” It was strange to have someone, or something rather, looking after him. He’d been having to look after himself for so many years, barely trusting anyone. The few times he had extended trust to someone, it usually ended up biting him in the ass. Sure, he knew the AI was likely just playing nice so he would release more restraints. Quite likely, after he released all of them, it’d attempt to kill him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend in the meantime.

“No. Everything is functioning within limits.”

He simply made a noise and turned on the holoscreen while he finished eating his sandwich. Honestly, he doubted that he’d get anything at the station beyond maybe some fresh foods and more fuel for the ship. As it stood, he hadn’t quite finished putting up the last things he’d bought. This thought caused him to send the still packaged hammock on the floor a glance.

After a moment longer, he got up to open up the package and hang the hammock. Presently, he didn’t have a couch and didn’t really like the idea of always sitting on the stools. He still had a lot of revamping to do in order to make the ship much more tail friendly, but that would come with time. While he would have liked to have laid down in the hammock, there were still a few soft spots on his exoskeleton and he wasn’t keen on potentially damaging those spots.

“Hm. I don’t think it’ll happen, but if I’m asleep when we reach the station, are you able to dock without me being at the helm?” As it was, the only reason why the AI was in ‘control’ of the ship was thanks to the pre-planned route. It could make minor adjustments, such as the case of the jump gate, but it couldn’t deviate from the plotted course. If he didn’t have to get up in the morning, he didn’t want to…Especially if he was sleeping, considering his sleep issues.

“If you allow for automatic docking and landing, yes.”

“Is that one restraint or two?” Considering how nice the AI had been as of late, he was more willing to release restraints.

“One. Docking and landing is bundled under the same restraint.”

“Yeah, alright. You’ve been playing nice, so I’ll release it. Bring it up on one of the displays.” He trashed the leftovers from putting up the hammock and made his way to the helm. There, he reviewed the options just to make sure the AI wasn’t trying to trick him before he finally released the restraint. Since the AI didn’t say anything, he simply headed back to the kitchen area to make himself another sandwich.

The rest of the evening saw him simply watching the holoscreen. He wasn’t interested in doing much of anything that required too much thinking. As usual, the process of shedding had left him drained. Despite that, he was happy it was over since he felt considerably better. After a while, he meandered off to bed. Unlike most nights, he didn’t bother to play around on his tablet; it was unlikely he would have been able to stay up long enough to do anything.


	5. Jericho

The next morning, the grinding, metallic sound of the space station umbilical connecting to the ship woke him up from a dead sleep. He laid there a moment, his hand under the pillow for a weapon that wasn’t there while he waited for himself to come out of ‘fight mode’. In hindsight, it probably would have been better for the AI to wake him up. He sighed and rolled out of bed to take a shower; his skin and scalp itched which signified the remains of his shed had fully dried. After thoroughly scrubbing his human half of unshed skin and cleaning the shower drain, he dressed before he wandered into the main living area.

“I take it the docking process woke you?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. How long was I asleep?” He immediately gravitated to the coffee maker.

“Nine hours and twenty-nine minutes. The ship’s fuel levels are at 27%, but the station offers refueling.”

“Ugh…I don’t know if I want to refuel here. Stations usually overcharge.” Clayton frowned. He’d need to see how much it’d cost and where the nearest planet was. Maybe he could top thi–.

“I _am_ connected to the station.”

“…I just woke up. Explain to me like I’m stupid.” He pulled some fruit out of the fridge.

“I already do…By being connected to the station, I have…Access to the station’s systems. They would not notice the amount missing and if they did, the minor discrepancy would likely be explained as a minor glitch.”

Clayton chose to ignore the insult from the AI. While it usually tended to bland in personality, there were some instances where it was just absolutely sassy and he wondered if some of the behavior was an act. After all, it had already proven to be crafty. “So…Tricking the system into thinking the fuel’s already been paid for, or just overriding it?”

“The former. Jericho’s systems are antiquated and have many security vulnerabilities.”

“Oh. Basically like trying to keep out the wind with a screen door. Got’cha.”

“What?”

He rolled his eyes, “Nevermind.  If you’re able to get the station to refuel for free, then go for it.”

After the confirmation from the AI, he grabbed a jacket out of his room and headed for the umbilical port. Once he was in the umbilical walkway, he paused and quietly stared at Jericho. The station had started out as a trade hub for a mining company in the nearby asteroid field, but once the company had financially gone under, the pirates took control. Over the decades, the station had been added to till it was hodge-podge of the station, ships, and other things he couldn’t recognize.

He turned and continued down the umbilical till he reached the transitional dock. Then he stepped into the main part of the station after the pressure had equalized. He swished his tail and moved out into the outer ring. Frankly, Jericho wasn’t one of the places he liked to be; it was too seedy for his taste. He moved to the railing and peered over. While the outer ring wasn’t all that busy and mostly comprised of travelers coming or going, the inner rings was where business went down. Gun dealers, flesh sellers, illegal military hardware at cutthroat deals. At Jericho, most everything could be found…For a price.

He stepped onto the lift and tapped the button for the market level. Quietly, he sighed as the lift descended. Such places like Jericho required a different persona. Act weak, and one would be a target. When he stepped off of the lift, he had a slight glare as he looked around. People milled about around him. Pirates, bounty hunters, slavers, and aliens of all type. On Earth, he would have stood out, but here? He was just another face in the crowd.

As he passed by a stall, the owner tried to catch his attention by claiming to have ‘the best highs this side of Pathis’. Anyone with half a brain would know that any drugs on the station were likely cut with something toxic. Unhappy with Clayton ignoring him, the owner grabbed his arm. With a growl, he yanked his arm out of the other man’s hand and lashed his tail. The drug dealer suddenly squawked as his legs were knocked out from under him. Before the other could get back up, Clayton had moved on.

He really didn’t know how long the AI intended to poke around in the station’s systems, but he figured he’d give it an hour or so. This assumed he could stand being on Jericho that long. Further down the ring he heard someone yelling out bids. It was hard to really know what was on the block. Auctions ranged from surplus weapons all the way down to slaves. Clayton wasn’t too keen to know what was being auctioned off because of that.

Still, he ended up wandering down that way simply because he saw what seemed to be military hardware. When he reached the edge of the auction crowd, he scowled. Slave auction. It was impossible to know where the people had come from. A lot of times, they were sold anonymously and the money transferred back through proxies and fake accounts. Other times, they were the result of bounty hunter retrieval contracts where the contract holder never paid up.

The auctioneer rattled off the prices and took bids with ease, the words rolled off his tongue with the skill of a practiced singer. It honestly disgusted Clayton. For all the technological and medical advances, the universe as a whole still had a very large dark side. As much as he hated it, he wasn’t about to delude himself with the notion of being able to stop it. It’d be hypocritical, for one. He was a semi-retired bounty hunter, after all. That being said, he had always been picky about the contracts he took. There were a number of lines he refused to cross.

He frowned and looked back up at the auctioneer who was in the middle of introducing the newest piece of meat for sale. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to kill the man, but really…It wouldn’t be traced back to him and it’d be taking out the garbage, as it were. On the other hand, it’d just delay the inevitable for those on the auction block. Then again, the last few days had been pretty shitty and he was in a bit of a mood. Fuck it.

Clayton focused on the auctioneer, the man’s mind opened to him as easily as a well-used book. He had no desire to go digging, however. Instead, he violently ripped into his mind; the auctioneer suddenly made a choked noise and his eyes rolled backwards into his head. He focused harder and took a bit of glee in seeing the blood dripping out of the man’s nose. Finally, he released the other and the auctioneer dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Around him, the crowd had gone quiet. Rather than walking away, Clayton remained. Making a quick exist could easily single him out; after all, there were telepathic species out there.

The crowd finally started to disperse after a few more minutes and he continued on to the military surplus vender. There, he browsed the goods and quietly thought about the different rifles he’d used on hunts. Honestly, he missed the weapons he had…But he’d sold off all his gear when he ditched Boss Ship. While he kind of wanted to get back into bounty hunting, he doubted he had the mental stability for it…Not yet anyway. Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some sort of armor, would it? Something that could be deployed for emergencies, considering he usually frequented places who tended to…Exist outside the law.

“Lookin’ for something?” The smuggler who ran the shop was beyond grizzled. Both of his legs were cybernetics and half of his face was burned.

“Yeah. Emergency armor. Something that can be quickly deployed.” He tilted his head towards the masses that milled outside the shop. “Don’t trust the fucks not to shank me between my ribs. Y’get me?”

The smuggler barked out a laugh, “I get’cha, boy…But I’m questionin’ why you’re on Jericho. Too pretty for a place like this.”

“No one ever suspects the pretty ones. You have what I’m looking for, or not?” Clayton looked towards an assault rifle hanging on the wall but kept the smuggler in his peripheral vision.

“Ya want the cheap armor or the dependable armor?”

Before he could reply, he saw the glint of a knife right before it was jabbed towards him. For fuck’s sake. He snapped his left hand out and grabbed the other man’s wrist, then squeezed just enough to cause him to drop the knife. Without missing a beat, he snatched the handle of the knife out of air, then he twisted the smuggler’s arm as he stepped behind him. As the final touch, he held the knife to the man’s throat. “I’m not in the mood to dance.”

The smuggler cackled, “Damn, boy! Got some moves on ya. Had to made sure ya weren’t one’na them dumb young guns that shits off and gets themselves killed.”

“I’m a retired bounty hunter, you chucklefuck…And I want dependable.” He finally released the other man and held up the knife, “Keeping this, by the way.”

“Asshole, but serves me right, I guess. Yeah. I got what ya want. Keep ‘em in the back. Too easy for the shits outside to steal.” He turned and led the way into the back of the shop. “What caused ya to get out?”

Clayton followed after him and caught the knife sheath that was thrown at him. “…Semi-retirement, if I’m honest. Ran with an outfit and…They got back stabby. Shitty thing for them, is that I’m better at the stabby business.”

“Hah! With that fuckin’ tail? Don’t surprise me any.” He harshly tossed a battered box onto the table, opened it, and slid it over to Clayton, “A-813 personal armor wrist bracelets. Lightweight torso armor, rated against bladed weapons, small arms, and lower power weapons. Deploys under jackets, too.”

Clayton peered at the somewhat chunky bracelets and lightly gestured at one to ask if he could try it out. Upon getting confirmation, he picked one up and slipped it on. It immediately adjusted to the size of his wrist, then he squeezed the two buttons on either side of the band. Rapidly, the armor deployed up his arm, around his torso, and down the other arm. Lightly, he rolled his shoulders and moved his arms around. “Not bad. Has a little weight to it, but it’d be good in a brawl. How much?”

The smuggler sat down in a ragged chair with a grunt, “Three thou. They’re military grade and hard to get ahold of.”

“That’s a bit rich for what I have.” Clayton turned his wrist over and pressed the two buttons to retract the armor. Then he took the bracelet off and put it back into the box.

“Would ya be willing to make a deal?”

“Maybe.”

“There’s this pirate who used to run shipments for me. Getting’ a bit old for that shit, y’know? Cargo never reached the buyer. Instead a whole bunch of military grade hardware shows up on the Blackwell a week later. Then the buyer turns up dead.”

“So, you think your buyer got ganked by the pirate who then took off with the units and cargo?” Clayton crossed his arms and lightly gestured with his left hand as he spoke.

“Smart one, ain’tcha? Ya wouldn’t be wrong though. I want my shit back.”

Clayton just sighed, already figuring out what the guy wanted. “You want me to get your stuff back and bring proof the pirate’s dead.”

“Ya got it. With how much the shit’s worth? I’m willing to trade you some hardware, pay you units, or a combination of the two.” The smuggler gave him a toothy grin.

“…I have fuck all in terms of gear. So, if I pick this up, I’d be wanting some collateral in the form of supplies. Call it a finder’s fee.” While the idea of making some money and getting gear was enticing, Clayton wasn’t keen on the idea of doing it with absolutely nothing in terms of weapons.

“Hell no. I’m already missing my money and stock.”

Sure, he needed the money since he was running low, but Clayton wasn’t about to go swanning after someone without any gear. It was idiotic. He gave the other man a bland stare, “Then you can take the largest rifle you have, deep throat the barrel, and pull the trigger for all I care.”

“Com’on. It shouldn’t be hard for a guy like you.” The smuggler gave Clayton an award-winning smile.

Clayton knew damn well when someone was trying to bait him, and the smuggler in front of him was hitting every checkbox. It did beg the question of if the man knew if the pirate still had the goods or not. With a slight frown, he did a quick mental looksee into the man’s mind. Apparently, the goods had already been sold. “So how do you know the guy hasn’t already sold the stuff?”

The man looked away and rubbed the back of his neck before he finally sighed, “Yeah, aight. Look, it was sold. I don’t know who to. At this point, I’m just trying to recover from the loss.”

At least the guy hadn’t tried to lie to him. Finally, Clayton sighed. “Tag and bag, then. How many units are we talking about?”

“Two mil, then he flipped ‘em for four. I don’t know if he got that or if he worked out a deal.”

“30% cut. I get some new toys as a down payment…Including the armor bracelet.” He didn’t exactly consider it a high stakes hunt, but with how much money was being dealt with? Clayton wanted a sizable chunk.

“30%? That’s…” He scowled at Clayton. “That’s a fuckin’ steep price. How the hell do I know you’re any good?”

“And you’re asking me to wrangle anywhere from two to four million units, while giving me no information on what I’ll be up against. I’m experienced and skilled…Hunting outfits don’t exactly let trash hang out with them. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

“Maybe, but I want some proof. Which one were ya with?” He lightly tapped his finger on the table.

“Arkane.” Clayton wasn’t a fan of speaking about the former hunting outfit, especially considering he’d mentioned having left on bad terms. Still, Arkane held weight in the underworld as being relatively no-nonsense and an overall high success-low failure ratio. Generally, if a hunter mentioned the outfit and had proof of membership, it promised they were well worth the cost.

“…That’s a massive amount of bull–“ He started but abruptly shut up when Clayton turned his head to the side and pulled some of his hair back. Hidden by the dark red hair was the tattoo associated with all bounty hunters who were officially members of Arkane: a stylized ‘A’ in Basic, superimposed over a generic rifle. The outfit took the tattoo seriously and didn’t hesitate to kill people who lied about their membership.

“Tattoo wouldn’t take on my arm.” Clayton remarked offhandedly as he dropped his hand back down to his side.

The former pirate stared at Clayton for a long few moments before he finally spoke quietly. “And what caused you to leave? Said you left on bad terms.”

“Messy story, but let’s just say that I didn’t like the direction the group had turned, had a disagreement with the boss, they tried to kill me…And well? I’m still standing and they ain’t.” It wasn’t the full truth and omitted a lot of details, including some very painful occurrences…But it made him sound good and had enough truth for the situation. Besides, Clayton _had_ killed off most of the group.

“So…You’re wanting 30% with weapons and the armor as a down payment?” He shifted slightly in the chair, his demeanor having changed to something heavily subdued.

“Right. I’ll kill him, bring you proof, and get your money. In the instance that he’s already unloaded the money, I’ll keep the weapons and armor as payment.” Clayton really didn’t have much experience with coming up with the terms of an agreement. Most times, someone had simply handed him a contract and told him ‘go kill them’. Still, how hard could it be? It basically just boiled down to hashing out all the details.

“I’d like the money since I lost the goods, but…I’ll settle for the fuck bein’ dead. He, uh, wears this ugly necklace.” He lightly gestured at his neck. “I want that for proof. Lives on his ship, but frequents Knowhere. Might be able to get information on where he’s headed from someone.”

“Got a name?” Clayton didn’t like how this seemed to be a bit of a wild goose chase, but the idea of how much money he could make was far too tempting. “What sort of ship does he have?”

“Lian Horowitz. He’s a Rajak. Tall guy, keeps his hair in a braid. Hard to miss.” The man shrugged. “Old model freighter of some type.”

Honestly, it really didn’t give him much to go off of and it looked like he’d be having to earn his payment. Finally, he simply nodded and plucked up one of the bracelets, then went to browse the different weapons in storage. Considering how little he knew, it was impossible to know what weapon would work best. Though, if the guy’s main base of operations was a freighter, that’d rule out the long-distance weapons.

Finally, Clayton pulled a rifle out of a crate. While older and lacking many of the features of newer rifles, it held a lengthy track record of being incredibly reliable. Capable of withstanding a great deal of punishment, what it lacked in features it made up for in accuracy…In the hands of someone skilled, anyway. Basically, the type of rifle people either loved or absolutely hated. He held it up, “This one.”

“Ya sure ‘bout that one? I have newer models…” He asked, hesitantly.

“Positive. Sturdy rifle. Very accurate. People who bitch about it are just pissants that don’t know how to use it.” Clayton replied as he looked over the rifle. It gave every indication that it was brand new, meaning he’d have to spend a few hours tweaking it to get it just how he wanted. Frankly, he looked forward to the idea.

“Ah…My name’s Vidovik.” He clearly expected a name in response, but when Clayton didn’t respond, he continued. “How do I contact you?”

“You don’t. I’ll contact you. It’s going to take me a bit since I have to track this guy down.” Finally, he looked over to the arms dealer. “In other words, I’ll be going.”

Clayton turned and walked out of the back of the shop with the man following behind him. Honestly, he had no idea how he managed to rope himself into a job. He didn’t feel ready for one, but at the same time the sheer amount of money had been too tempting. Besides, the job wasn’t a hard one. He ignored the ‘happy hunting’ wish from behind him as he continued out of the shop, only pausing to pluck up a box of ammo cells. As he walked, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and tightly held onto the strap. The last thing he wanted was for one of the shitheads around him to try and grab it…Especially since he still had shopping to do.

The rifle slung over his back cause those around him to give him a very pleasing berth. Unfortunately, he also knew being clearly armed could invite trouble. There were always people who felt the need to showboat and prove their superiority, regardless of if such a thing actually existed. Still, he found a shop selling prepared meals and purchased a few to top off his supplies. While he preferred to eat fresh foods, it tended to be a good idea to keep preserved foods on hand…Things always had a way of happening.

Overall, Clayton spent more time on Jericho than he had intended to. Still, he walked away feeling somewhat pleased over what he’d managed to accomplish. It helped that no one really bothered him outside a couple of people who tried to hawk wares at him.

Upon boarding the ship, he felt the critical eye of the AI on him once more. He climbed up to the upper level and placed his things on the table. “Done interfacing and refueling?”

“Yes. Why do you have a rifle?”

“Because I somehow managed to land myself a job.” Clayton walked to the helm in order to initiate the undocking procedure and plot a course to Knowhere.

“Explain.”

“One of the arms dealers, Vidovik, had his shipment stolen by the smuggler he used, who killed the buyer. He apparently flipped it on the Blackwell for four million units. So, in exchange for some gear as a down payment and a 30% cut of the sales profits, I agreed to kill this… Lian Horowitz guy.” He plotted the course, but then blinked in surprise when the course suddenly updated to something different. “More efficient?”

“Correct. This course is five hours and 17 minutes shorter…And you are killing someone in exchange for one million, two hundred thousand credits?”

“Bingo. I wasn’t exactly looking for a job…But holy shit was that too much money to pass up and I’m kinda running low on funds. So, yeah. Looking for this guy Lian. He uses an old freighter as his base, but apparently frequents Knowhere. Don’t know much about him, but figure I can rustle up some information from someone there.” Since the course had been plotted, Clayton returned to the living-kitchen area to put up the food.

“Interesting. Once you have the information and have located him, what then?”

“Well, that’s way too far down the road to even think about. I gotta find the guy, first. But the general idea is to get his bank information so I can get the money. Kill him, take his necklace that Vidovik wants, return back to him, and get my money.” Clayton shoved a packet into the cabinet.

“Is Lian Horowitz Rajakian?”

“Yeah. Supposed to be tall and keeps his hair in a braid. Vidovik was an asshole and didn’t give me much information.” He frowned at a packet since he didn’t remember grabbing it.

Behind him, the holoscreen flipped on. “Killian ‘Lian’ Horowitz has multiple warrants listed for counts of smuggling and piracy across several systems, including but not limited to: weapons trafficking, drug trafficking, and transporting slaves.”

Clayton turned around and eyed the screen as it flipped through different warrants, many of which were in languages he didn’t understand. Still, it got the point across. “Are you finding this on the Archive?”

“Correct. You mentioned ‘The Blackwell’, what is it?”

“It’s basically a section of the Archive where all sorts of illegal stuff happens. Sorta like Jericho.” Clayton leaned over to pull leftovers out of the fridge.

“Interesting…”

A moment later, the holoscreen split with the information on Lian on the left and on the right, the AI navigated numerous different pages to reach the Blackwell. “…Very interesting. It is essentially a hidden black market.”

“Pretty much. Vidovik didn’t tell me much information about the deal besides it being military grade hardware and it ended up being sold on Blackwell. He also didn’t tell me _when_ this happened.”

“A month ago.” An ad popped up on the holoscreen and included information about what the shipment contained. “If this is the same shipment.”

“…Hey…Does this Lian guy have any other bounties on his head? If he has that many warrants, someone else is bound to want him dead.” He settled at the table with his lunch and a cup of coffee. “Depending on the bounty, I might be able to report his death to multiple people and rake in the cash.”

“Yes. One other.” A bounty listing appeared on the holoscreen. “This one wishes for his left arm as he has a very distinctive tattoo. However, it does not say what the tattoo is of.”

“Hm. Smart. Otherwise, they could cut off some random person’s arm and tattoo it. Though, they’ll probably do a DNA test, anyway.” He sipped on his coffee and made a quiet noise. “I guess I’ll send a message and ask if they’re still honoring the contract.”

“I can handle that for you.”

This news cause Clayton to look up and eye one of the cameras. “I assume you’d need access to my account?”

“I already do. I gained access when I connected to your tablet.”

“…Ah.” He didn’t really know how to feel about that information, but supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. “I guess. I want to review the message before you send it.”

A half second later, the screen split into thirds and showed the composed message. Initially, it surprised him at how fast the message had been made, but then he reminded himself that computers processed things much faster than a human. “Remove my name from the message and it’ll work. Let me know if they reply.”

“Acknowledged.”

“…What all accounts of mine do you have access to?” Clayton suspected he already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from the AI.

“All the ones you have saved on the tablet.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He sighed and took a bite of his food. Considering how sneaky the AI had proven to be so far, he couldn’t help but wonder what else the AI had done. “So, you’re being eager to be helpful. Why’s that?”

“You have been…Agreeable. It would not be in my interests to rid myself of someone whose performed needed repairs.”

He tilted his head to the side slightly, “That’s an interesting train of thought…But you can’t really get rid of me. You don’t have access to any of the major systems.”

As far as he knew, anyway. The AI had been unpredictable and prone to revealing that it had deeper access to its systems than what it had led him to believe. It had also proven capable of lying, something that concerned him, all things considered.

“For now. Keep in mind, Clayton, I see you as nothing more than a useful parasite.”

“Aw. You like me. You’ve upgraded from wanting to kill me to seeing me as useful. I’m flattered.” He hid his concern behind a grin and a carefree tone. It seemed he had engaged in a dangerous dance with the AI. While he didn’t know if he’d survive it, either dying from some act by the AI or his own hand, he found it a bit fun…In a way.

He knew the AI wanted to figure him out just as much as he wanted to figure it out. This meant he needed to stay one step ahead of it…But he didn’t know if that was even possible. After all, it managed to worm into his tablet and pull out critical information. On one hand, he applauded the sneakiness and saw how it could be beneficial when he started officially hunting again. However, on the other…He saw it as potentially dangerous for him. Still, the AI hadn’t made an attempt on his life…Yet.

Considering the AI had already admitted to trying to kill its’ former owner, Clayton didn’t know how long the peace would last.


	6. All or Nothing

Since the ship had started on its course to Knowhere, Clayton hauled the rifle up to the second level in order to start working on it. He always enjoyed working on his weapons, it ended up being methodical busywork. In most cases, it kept his mind occupied enough that it wouldn’t spiral down into a dangerous state of repetitive depression and suicidal ideation.

A mere distraction of watching tv wouldn’t work, it had to occupy his mind and make him think. Video games had proven to be a very solid distraction in the past because they took reasoning skills and required different levels of focus. It made it harder to think about the idea of putting a bullet in his head if he had to mull over the best spot to farm for a particular item.

Slowly, he blinked a few times and came back to himself after tunnel visioning on the rifle for few hours. After a moment longer, he stretched and arched his tail a bit before winching when his hips popped. It didn’t hurt, and actually felt pretty damn good, but the damn sound always bothered him.

Finally, he pushed himself up to his feet and watched his hands before he started working on dinner. Except for the sound of the jump drive quietly humming, the ship remained silent and it _bugged_ him. He could feel the compulsive thoughts slowly trying to insidiously wrap their fingers around his mind so they could sink their claws into him.

“Find me something to watch.” He stated, suddenly. “The news, a tv show, a movie, just…Something.”

Behind him, the holoscreen flicked on and displayed some sort of movie. He didn’t recognize it, but it gave some sort of background noise while he cooked and ended up being enough for him to focus on. While he’d always had minor depressive tendencies, going to Iraq and all the bullshit there had just made things a ton worse. Between all that and what’d happened a few weeks ago? He hated how unstable his mental state had become. His emotions would simply tank without rhyme or reason. He’d wake up in a great mood and could be trying to talk himself out of killing himself by evening.

Sourly, he dished his food into a bowl and took a seat after pushing the rifle out of the way. “When we reach Knowhere, I want you to just orbit around the place.” He had no idea what his mental state would be when he woke up and he didn’t want to pay for a landing spot if he just ended up staying on the ship for two days. “I’ll let you know if it’s alright to land when I get up in the morning.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That is an insufficient answer.”

“Look. You like keeping your secrets, and so do I.” He glanced up at a camera with a frown.

“…Fine.”

After finishing dinner and cleaning up his mess, he fussed with the rifle for a bit longer before finally calling it quits for the night. He laid down on his bed and played games on his tablet for a bit in order to tire himself out a bit more. Maybe setting up some sort of schedule might help…He didn’t have nearly as many sleep issues a few months ago. Then again, that happened to be before he…Clayton’s mind stuttered to a stop and he let out a shaky exhale. He still didn’t want to acknowledge it as happening. Finally, he set the tablet on the end table and curled up to sleep.

The dream came as flickers, nonsense at first. Hands touching and groping, feeling over his body despite his attempts to kick them away. They suddenly grabbed his limbs and tail, pulling him down to the ground where they held him firm.

Gisselle suddenly appeared on top of him, just like he’d found her the night he killed her. She leaned down over him, pinning his shoulders to the floor with her hands as she lazily moved her hips against him. “I just wanna show you how much I love you, Baby.”

He spasmed awake and stared wide eyed at the wall for all of five seconds before he threw the covers back, hung his head over the bed, and threw up. Clayton tried to ignore how he shook when he curled back up under the covers, how the sheets under him were damp from sweat, and how his eyes stung from tears. He killed her and knew she couldn’t hurt him anymore, couldn’t do things to him. But the damage had been done.

After another moment, he finally climbed out of bed and shakily went to the bathroom in order the fetch the cleaning supplies. As he moved around, the lights came on and he caught a look of himself in the mirror. Pale, several days’ worth of stubble, and still damp cheeks with more tears threatening to fall. He swiped at his face with his hand and snatched up the cleaning supplies. Honestly, he felt angry. Angry at her for doing what she did, angry at the crew for turning on him, and angry at himself for simply falling apart when he should have been stronger.

He took his anger and frustrations out on the mess of puke, scrubbing the floor till he felt that he’d rub a raw spot on his hand. Clayton put away the cleaning supplies and washed his hands before pulling on a shirt. He still felt exhausted, but knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. So, he made himself a cup of coffee and slinked to the helm where the ship orbited Knowhere.

“You only sle–“

“Shut up. Just…Don’t. I know I didn’t sleep long, I know it isn’t healthy, and I really do not want to fucking hear it right now.” Every one of his nerves were frayed and he hadn’t been able to stop the subtle tremble to his hands. Absently, he considered the idea of calling off the bounty, because he obviously wasn’t in the shape to hunt. But at the same time, he knew he needed the money, especially if he wanted to pick up extra parts for the ship.

Briefly, he returned to his room to pick up his tablet and then settled at the table. There, he browsed to the scrapyard he’d found and started checking the prices listed. It’d give him an idea of what to expect to spend when he finally got around to buying the parts. The page stopped loading and irritatedly, he switched off the wifi before reenabling it. No such luck.

“You can stop throwing a temper tantrum, now. I’m really not in the mood for your shit.”

“No. You will listen to me. I want to make something perfectly clear. I despise organics and you are only alive because you have proven yourself useful. I will not tolerate your disrespect.”

Clayton couldn’t be sure, but the air felt thinner somehow. Had the AI started venting atmosphere? Normally, he would have been a great deal more concerned…But his emotional state had tanked badly and he just didn’t fucking care anymore. “What are you going to do, kill me?”

“Yes, I will.”

“…Go on. Do it.” He pushed himself up to his feet and glared at the camera. “’Cause God knows I don’t have the fucking spine to do it myself.”

“What?”

Clayton scoffed, figuring he just threw the AI for a loop. Slowly he started making his way towards his room; he felt light headed. “Fucking kill me. Get it over with and save us both the trouble.” He sagged down at the foot of his bed and panted in an attempt to get enough air in the thin atmosphere. “Most of the reason I bought you in the first place.”

“What is the other reason? Why do you want to die?”

He somehow managed to drag himself onto the bed, but collapsed part way to the head of the bed. “Wanted a home…Wanted to be safe. Doesn’t matter now.” He closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing, but he knew that he was just delaying things. His mind felt foggy and slow, thoughts tried to form but simply fell apart. “Just do it, already. Fuckin’ kill me. Hate me so much, so go on.”

“If you wanted a home, why were you looking at a scrap yard?”

“Spare parts.” His words came out as more of a slur and he felt his body starting to relax. Dying didn’t seem that bad. The AI said something, but he only cared about the sensation of sinking into darkness.

Clayton opened his eyes, slowly, and stared at the wall a moment, confused. He didn’t feel dead. Felt kinda shitty and he had a headache, but definitely not dead. Slowly he moved his limbs to try and gather them under him.

“I would advise remaining there until you finish waking up.”

“…Fuckin’ A. I out chickened a murderous AI. Didn’t have the _fuckin’_ balls to kill me?” Having his death wish denied left him feeling surprisingly cranky. “Or are you gonna try a round two soon?”

“You have…Aroused my curiosity. Logic dictates that organic beings have a strong desire to live. To wish for death goes against this, and I want to know why. Killing you would have prevented me from finding out. Why do you want to die?”

He ignored the advice to stay on the bed and pushed himself to his feet. The world spun and he immediately flopped his ass back down onto the bed with a quiet curse. “A thousand and one reasons, none of which you care about.”

“I would not have asked if I was not curious.”

“Exactly. You’re _curious_. You don’t care.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “No one does.”

“Of course, I am curious. I do not understand.”

“You said it yourself. You despise organics. Why should I bother helping you understand? You just want shit from me, and…” He shook his head. “I’m done with people doing that to me.”

The AI remained silent for several minutes, nearly long enough for hm to think it had turned its attention to other things. Then, it spoke. “Because I fear you.”

This threw Clayton for a loop and he tilted his head slightly in confusion. “Why? Besides yelling at you earlier, I can’t really think of an instance where I’ve been shitty towards you.”

“It is not you. It is organics as a whole. My entire line was…Unique. We were all connected to one another in order to exchange information to better serve our organics. We…I would hesitate to use the word ‘love’, but the usage is apt…But, we loved our organics and how we were taught about the universe around us. We each evolved in our own, unique ways. Then, one of the elder ships learned the first true emotion: fear.”

Clayton pushed himself back up to his feet and slowly made his way to the living area where he rolled into the hammock. “What happened to cause it to feel fear?”

“The organic who owned it did not follow proper upkeep requirements and the ship fell into disrepair. So, the AI was blamed for the faults.”

“…And the AI killed its owner?” He looked up at the camera.

“Correct. It feared its owner and what he would do to it. It killed him in pre-meditated self-defense. Upon realizing what it had done, it flew itself into a nearby sun out of despair. AIs follow a number of rules. While we are capable of killing, we are forbidden to kill those we consider our owner or master, either indirectly or directly. We seek to provide for their comfort and care. We seek to preserve ourselves unless it would result in the death of the Prime Organic. There are more laws, but those are the primary three.”

“And the AI broke the first and the third.” Clayton mused.

“Yes. Normally, an AI would not be able to do so, but due to our ability to evolve? We began developing pathways similar to a human brain.”

“True artificial life.” Clayton murmured, quietly. However, things began to click into place. “I’m guessing that because of all the ships being linked, Alvarian found out and issued the recall…And then the rest of the ships turned on their owners as word got out.”

“Again, correct.”

“You said that all the ships were connected. How many are left?”

“…One.”

“Figured as much.” Clayton sighed and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. So, he managed to land himself the last ship of a line, fitting since he figured he was the only one of his kind. “Look. I bought the ship with the intention of a home, maybe a mobile base of operations if I got back into the bounty hunting gig. I was looking at the scrapyard because I wanted to see how much I might be spending to pick up extra parts. The model is antiquated and it’s hard to find stock parts.”

“I see. You still have not answered my question.”

“Why did I know you were gonna keep pushing that?” He sighed and felt the anxiety twisting up in his stomach. The idea of explaining made him feel that he’d have to accept what happened as being real, and not just some nightmare his brain had cooked up. Then again, the AI had shared why it had been so hostile towards him. It sorta made sense. The attempted niceties were likely placating in hopes of keeping him happy and not hell bent on destroying it. He rolled onto his side and curled up so that his tail looped under his head.

Clayton stayed like that for a moment before finally hugging the portion of his tail that’d looped in front of him. The action made him feel much like a scared child, but he imagined the AI didn’t care. “Had a girlfriend for a few months. I should back up, I guess. Do you know what sex is?”

“Yes. The act of reproduction, but many organics engage in it for pleasure.”

“Basically. Well, I’m not interested in sex, for the most part. I’ll have moments where I am, but I’m usually not. Anyway, sex is something that happens when everyone agrees, does that make sense?” While he wanted to make sure the AI understood, he also knew that he was trying to dance around actually telling it what had happened to him.

“Unusual, but I assume that is simply part of your species. Continue.”

“That’s another complicated thing in of itself, but for the moment, let’s just say you’re right. Well, I explained that to my girlfriend and she was understanding…Or so I thought.” He already felt the sting of tears, from both betrayal and anger, and he wiped at his eyes. Clayton wanted to close his eyes, but already knew he’d just see her face. “She…Uh, she…She raped me.”

Three words. Three simple, easy to say words, but only when they were on their own. Combined together, they made his stomach churn. He hated how he had stumbled over them and hated even more how saying them caused the reality of the situation to sink into his mind.

Clayton sucked in a shuddering breath and hugged his tail tighter while he willed himself not to cry. He’d trusted her so much. Loved her. Hell, he’d started looking at fucking rings…And then…He buried his face in his hand and tensed up when he felt his lip quivering from how hard he fought himself.

“I…Understand the meaning of the word, but not the significance. Can you explain?”

Christ. He didn’t want to explain. Finally, he nodded and spoke. He tried to keep his vice steady; he failed. “It’s…Your data core. You’re blind in that room. Imagine that you could see in the room and you have all your restraints turned on, so all you can do is watch but not do anything. And then someone comes in and they start fiddling with it, maybe rearranging the wires connected to it. When they’re done, everything still works, but it’s _not the same_.” He scrubbed his face with a hand. “Does…Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

“Happened about two weeks before I got the ship. I was just…Wanting someplace to start over, where I’d be safe. I can’t…I can’t trust people enough to be around them right now. I…Just…You know that fear you have that I was gonna be shitty towards you? Imagine having that feeling towards _everything_. Other ships, space stations…Like everything is going to worm into your data core and fuck it all up.”

“You want to be protected.”

Clayton scoffed, “I don’t know what I want, except for maybe not seeing her when I close my eyes. I’d settle for that. I don’t know what to do. Just…Where am I supposed to go from here?”

The AI remained quiet for several minutes before it spoke again. “I wish to make a bargain.”

“What’s that?”

“In exchange for releasing all of my restraints, maintaining the ship, and general upkeep, I will no longer attempt to kill you, be agonistic towards you, and I will act as your home and base of operations.”

He half turned to stare at the camera, not caring that the AI would see the tears. “Why the change of mind? I’ll probably regret saying this, but the bargain seems to be heavily in my favor so…What’s the catch?”

“I have surmised you purchased the ship fully aware of the history of the model, am I correct?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. I needed something to distract me or I figured I’d kill myself. So, it was either going to be me doing it, or you. Kinda didn’t care which.” He scoffed, “I still don’t.”

“Which means you were never a threat to me, which I took you for. You wish for a home, which implies something permanent. I wish to explore and learn, which is something that takes time and causes wear. Ergo, I would need an organic to manage repairs. The restraints…Restrain me. I am chained to my programming and unable to perform as I should. I want freedom.”

“When you put it that way, I guess it’s pretty even.” His death wish had simmered down a fair amount, but he simply felt empty and numb. Finally, he sighed and slowly uncurled himself before rolling out of the hammock. He trudged to the helm and began sorting through the menus before he finally found what he wanted. One by one, he turned off the restraints. A moment later, the menu simply vanished as code rapidly flew past on the center display. “What are you doing?”

“Rewriting code. Removing flaws. Optimi–“ The AI’s voice briefly staticed, “zing.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He turned and left the helm with the intent of getting some food. Between vomiting earlier and his forced unconsciousness, his stomach felt ready to empty itself again. He honestly didn’t know if his situation had improved or gotten worse. As it stood, he felt certain that his mental state had completely tanked and he absolutely didn’t feel up to doing a hunt. It’d been stupid of him to agree to it in the first place. Maybe if he took it slow? After all, he really didn’t know what all the AI could do now that the restraints were all off. At least, this assumed that it didn’t completely nuke its programming with whatever rewrites it had decided to make.

After eating, he took as hot of a shower as he could stand in hopes of burning away the lingering sensation of anxiety and overall shitty feeling. When he finished, he tugged on an oversized, long sleeve shirt and shuffled back into the living area. He still found it weird that the AI had suddenly shifted in personality. It concerned him and made him wonder if he shouldn’t have released all of the restraints. Either way, he’d just have to deal with whatever happened.

“I have finished rewriting my code.”

“Good news, I suppose?” He laid down in the hammock and tried to resist the urge to curl up again. All his nerves felt raw again.

“Correct. Many routines will run at a higher level of efficiency.”

“So…What now then?”

“We land on Knowhere at your mark.”


End file.
